


All’s well and good, being insane

by Ohonama



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (jk I did actually write this after the stream pls help), Characters will be added as time goes on!!, I may skip things tho, I mean kinda! I haven’t decided if it’s gonna be angst yet but knowing me it probably will be, I’ve also not decided how many chapters there are, Other, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Tommy’s descent into slow madness and rage, as documented by yours truly, i may write a chapter per stream if I have time, tommy had some.. really good lines this stream I’m not even kidding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27885043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohonama/pseuds/Ohonama
Summary: Tommyinnit was brave, reasonable, a raging storm, an unstoppable force.He was also angry, combustible, a ticking time bomb, an immovable object and just a child. Children shouldn’t be in war. Children shouldn’t be exiled from their home for a dumb little mistake. Children should not have the weight of the world on their shoulders.This fic IS tommy centric. If you do not like tommyinnit (big man, how could you possibly hate him) then shoo, leave, begone, get out, vanish, the dirt is gone, poof, evaporateMay or may not be ANGSTY. I am focusing right down on canon Tommy’s trauma + personality.I will not be referring to the cast by their names unless their names are in their user, even then I may use some kind of nickname when written in a certain perspective, tommy would call George gogy etc etcsorry for any and all spelling errors, im dyslexicvery dyslexic and I am dependent on autocorrect quite a bit hereenjoy
Relationships: Platonic tho, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, none y’all dirty
Comments: 58
Kudos: 491





	1. It’s how it has to be.

**Author's Note:**

> pogchamp thanks for reading as always and leave a kudos and follow if you enjoy :)

Thomas ‘Tommy’ Innit was a questionable child at most. People would ponder at his motives, his obsessions, his quirks, his rage. As the youngest member of the SMP to date, people had always ended up babying him and treating him like he was incapable of defending himself, physically or verbally.

Maybe they were right.

Tommy admittedly couldn’t remember most of what’d happened, it had all just flashed right before his eyes without warning. He had a solid plan - Get Techno, that’s Technoblade, to work with them. Techno hates government, it would’ve worked out.

It should’ve.

Tommy should’ve seen it coming. Daily, Tubbo was becoming more and more like a certain selfish dictator, the same one who had forced Tommy and Alive-bur out of the home they had methodically crafted and fought for for _years_ Tommy wonders if he himself is becoming like _him. _So in retrospect, it should’ve been obvious. Tubbo had turned, a regretful but intelligent expression coating his tawny eyes as he adjusted his coat and said a few words that fell onto deaf ears, but the set of words that specifically rang through Tommy’s head as he had chosen to set his spawn point were as follows.__

__“Dream, please detain and escort Tommy out of the country.”_ _

__And Tommy had thought it over, once, twice, three times, completely in shock. His mind felt staticky. Was this how he was going to die? Alone and afraid, just like Techno had said?_ _

__A hard punch knocked him out of his daze and off the walls, injuring his ankle a bit, but the pain was incomparable to what he had felt in the past._ _

___Falling down into lava, burning to death, being mercilessly slain, punched, shot at, blown up, poisoned, bitten, bruised-_ _ _

__He rubs his head after the fall, feeling pain despite not remembering hurting it. His hand falls over a scar on his head, lingering there. It was diamond shaped and raw, almost having been forced closed. Respawning was a fickle thing, and it was becoming riskier by the day. Tommy knew he was on his last legs, and half of his body was working its way right down to hell._ _

__He recalls following dream in his stupid boat with that stupid ghost, that stupid memory of his brother before Pogtopia, before all the pain and misery. He thinks about how he yelled, screamed, **begged** to be let back home. He just wanted to go home, couldn’t Dream, the unforgiving tyrant, at least understand a child just wanted to go back home, because he was scared? Because admittedly, Tommy was terrified. He had screamed at Dream and erupted at Ghostbur, the flickering memory of one of his loved ones. Dream had threatened to kill Tommy if he didn’t comply, and Tommy had almost let him._ _

__It would’ve been so easy, he would be gone in such a quick flash nobody would’ve ever noticed until it was far too late to save him. He’d be a wanderer in the fields of Asphodel, from what Techno had told him while he was young. He told him that he would keep his name and memories, and wander the mortal realm occasionally, but he was set to wander._ _

__And for a second, he was okay with that._ _

__And then his voice broke, and he croaked out a small whisper of affirmation, fidgeting and tearing off his armor, willing himself to not let rage induced tears fall. They were not genuine tears, they were not genuine tears, they were not genuine tears, TommyInnit does not cry. TommyInnit does not cry, he is a big man. The alpha Male._ _

__

__He wonders if anyone can see past his facade._ _

__Dream leaves, and he’s just left with a ghost. A stupid, foolish ghost who is convinced we’re on some dumb holiday, and we’re “Lads on Tour” or.. whatever. He was just so, so tired and lonely. He went mining to busy his infested head, and when that didn’t help he spent forever staring at a single log, mind wandering. He reaches up and feels just behind his bangs, as to where the scar of his personal failure is kept and hidden away. He sighs, wiping the sweat from his exhausted head, mobs just kept coming, and they just kept fighting. Why was it fair that Wilbur kept all of his stuff, while he had to start from scratch? How was this fair?_ _

__He hated dream.  
And he hates Wilbur. He hates Techno, he hates Phil, he hates Ranboo, he hates Connor, he hates Fundy, he hates Quackity, he hates George, Eret, Sapnap, Dream, and most importantly, Tubbo. He hates Tubbo. He’s becoming just like Schlatt. He refused to listen to reason, and now Tommy was in this situation. He swore that he’d put the disks behind him and just fight, and now Tubbo just pulls this and leaves him behind in the dark._ _

__It used to be him and Tubbo, just them two. Where did those days go?_ _

__Were they lost to the sands of time? Lost in fragments as the mess of scars gathered on both boys’ backs? Scattered with the weight of the world being continuously dropped and placed back on their shoulders?_ _

__“I am.. so lonely.” He admits to himself while wandering along the beach, alone. Ghostbur was gone to gather some materials and wouldn’t be back until sunrise._ _

__“I am so.. unbelievably lonely. So much has happened and.. I don’t know if I have the power to possibly ever stop it. I’m just.. really afraid and scared. Constantly. I hate wars. We don’t need more wars, but Dream just keeps asking and asking and asking and asking and I am just... so tired. I am admittedly so tired.”_ _

__He dries his eyes._ _

__Tommy remembers everything. He may brush things off with a stupid, embarrassing joke but he remembers.  
He remembers being trapped under that piston for hours.  
He remembers being blown up by Eret.  
He remembers being shot in the head by Dream.  
He remembers wilbur’s descent into madness.  
He remembers Techno befriending him, only to blow everything up.  
He remembers Wilbur calling him his _brother,_ only to betray him and press the button.  
He remembers Wilbur leaning in ever so close, and he remembers this every night.  
He whispered “Tommy, let’s be the bad guys.”_ _

__Tommy thinks for once in his life, he should take that advice, and falls asleep eventually, pondering the thought._ _


	2. Where is my mine?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With no visitation rights and no hope of ever leaving the place he was exiled to, tommy wonders.
> 
> Written during the stream on 5/12/20

“I live here, well not really, it’s a holiday, it’s a holiday.”

He repeated those words like a mantra, playing them on repeat. It was a holiday, it was a holiday. He wasn’t permanently exiled, Tubbo would turn around eventually, right? 

Right?

He hated that green bastard. He visited him and took all his hard earned armour and most of his stuff. He was doing so well, too. It sucked. This whole situation sucked. He was alone, and it sucked. He wanted a friend, one that’d live with him. But that never happened. It sucked. Ghostbur said he wasn’t actually living with Tommy - That his home was with l’Manberg, and it sucked. He was so unbelievably alone and tired. Everyone just took and took and took from him.

There were also plus sides. Ghostbur said he’d get him his valued book, “How to Sex 2” which he had spared blood, sweat and tears to write to completion. Bad - BadBoyHalo that is, visited him and gave him 2 diamonds, one of which he used to make a jukebox and the other spared for later. And then Dream had demanded he hand over all of his treasured items and proceeded to blow them up. That man had a clear obsession with holes. 

If he was honest, he missed l’Manberg.

He missed the gentle trees that would sway as he ran past them, chasing after his good friend _not friend_ Tubbo through the trees as children. He missed the lighthearted arguments. He missed Mexican l’Manberg, he missed when everything was just a joke and he could just relax and sit back on the bench.

“One of my qualities is that I can tell when people are lying.”

And he wasn’t lying - that was true.

He knew Ranboo was lying when he said he’d try to figure something out. He knew Ghostbur was lying when he said he was with Tommy through thick and thin. He knew that Sapnap was lying when he said he’d “help him” or whatever.

He also knew a lot of the truth too.

One, he was alone. So unbelievably alone, and nobody would ever come for him if he asks.  
Two, he was never anyone’s first choice. He was never Tubbo’s first consultant, he was never Wilbur’s first person to turn to. Even when Wilbur had chosen him as president, he knew. He knew he was just lying. When the button was pressed and the place was blown up, he knew. When Phil chose Technoblade over him to go with, despite Tommy being so, so very alone. He. Knew.

Phil hadn’t even visited him yet.  
Why is Dream even here? To taunt Tommy in his eternal isolation from all of his friends? He missed Ranboo. Even though he partially hated the man for not visiting, he tried to remain optimistic by reminding himself that he is probably busy. He just wanted to go back to when it was him, Tubbo and Wilbur, Alivebur, against the world. He missed that, and longed for it so hard. 

There he goes, mining again. He spends days and nights wasting away to the worn, blunt edges of his diamond pick. His hands burned vigorously, but he prevails no matter what he says to himself, because if nobody else is there for him, he’ll just have to pull his own weight and get on with it. 

The green bastard keeps saying death threats, that if he enters the nether hub and travels through there he will be slain at the slightest warning.

After walking to the nether hub, he cries. He cries very, very hard. Nobody notices because tears evaporate in the nether, but he ends up screaming “My home! My home!” And spends hours outside the portal, asking Dream why he can’t just go through. And then they just left him there, in the dirt waiting for them to return from _his_ home. 

He was seething. 

All he wanted was a walk along the prime path. He just wants to see the Christmas Tree once. Just once.

He wants to celebrate Christmas with his friends. 

He kept backtracking, considering running back to the portal that leads to... freedom? His house? Friends?

He reminds himself that l’Manberg was never truly free, that a house is not a home - and that his friends all turned on him.

He steps through the portal and back to Logstedshire.

“It’s sad to be stuck here.”

“You’re not stuck, this is a vacation home.”

Can’t you visit or call your friends or go back or call it off? He just wants to call off the vacation and go home. Not to his house, but to Phil, to Ranboo, to Tubbo. He had learnt his lesson, and he had already died so many times. He really just wants to go home.

Ghostbur gave him an image of the tree, and he sobbed. He just wanted to see it, he just wanted to go back and see it. He wanted to see the magnificently glowing lights.

“I want to see the tree.”  
“You can’t.”

Ghostbur had argued “its not in l’Manberg, so why can’t he go?”  
Dream, the bastard, had just replied “Well, no, but it’s in the SMP.. so..”

And then he goes back to staring at the log, ringing the newly placed bell gently as he drifted off uneasily, laying under the glittery stars that twinkled gently against the backs of his eyelids, lulling him into a peaceful slumber, one not filled with memories of falling off a tower and not being fast enough to place water, or burning to death or being shot or axed down, or decapitated.

No, TommyInnit had what he would call a good sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pogchamp


	3. Visitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating yesterday : ( I’ll try double updating today to compensate!

Today was.. a confusing day. He didn’t really do much, but he recalls logging on. Good starting point, alright.

He would never admit it, but he was becoming quite a bit like Wilbur.

Insanity. 

So he gave himself a checklist, a goals list.   
One, don’t take pity presents. Two, talk to the locals. Three, get pearls. He started yelling extremely broken Spanish at some villagers, which looked horrified of the boy. Wether it be his looks, or what he was yelling, he wouldn’t know.

He was just so excruciatingly tired. Dark circles coated his youthful eyes, and his red and white baseball shirt torn to shreds after a long night of trying to protect himself from the mobs. It was a long night, too long. 

He wondered where the disks were, and starting talking to himself, yelling out about how he “wouldn’t take pity gifts.”  
He dug under the chest out of curiosity.

The disk was there.  
Chirp.   
The song that reminded him of the astronaut, Clara, as she drifted about carelessly in space.

He’d never say it out loud, but he wanted to drift around eternally with her, lost to the sands of time. The music flowed and gave off such an authentic noise, it was like a..

It was like a...

Why couldn’t he come up with it? Why couldn’t he think? He pauses, before talking aloud to himself.

“This might... might be the disk that gets me through my _‘holiday’._ “

He knew that history had been repeating itself, he knew that.

He just wondered to himself ‘which part?’  
He then thinks, knows that he has to motivate himself and get done with the land and build it up from the ruins he had been dumped onto, with nothing but a dirt roof to keep him safe on the first night. He knows he could go insane if he doesn’t.

He knows. 

He keeps his head up high, because it’s all he can do.

He remembers asking for some blade powder across the communicator and a few seconds later, it crackled.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? It’s powder, not power.”

“ITS WHAT FUCKING HAPPENS WHEN YOU ALL FUCKING LEAVE ME-“ he snaps the communicator shut.

“When I blow up, they’ll all regret this.”

He knows that in verbal sense, he means popularity wise, but a small voice resonates in the back of his head, beckoning that he should just blow himself up.

He realises he can go into the nether, and with a pep in his step, runs over to the portal, barely prepared.

A white and black man stared at him before promptly scampering away. Ranboo. He cheers to himself a little, knowing that the man was just busy.

He reads over a book in a chest placed by the man before writing in there himself, his handwriting sprawled and messy.

‘Hi Ranboo! 

It’s me, Big T, aka Tommy. Aka Tommy Gun the Finest  
Just being okay you know.  
Looking for Blaze Power at the min ahaha

Just wondering, do you want to kepe up a snapchat streak with me I lost all mine years ago I need snapchat I love snap score and streaks and the dog filter

Lmk

Anyway speak to you soon sorry you have to be so quiet when messaging me im really all over the place ahahahhah the ghost smells awfully fucking weird

Bye bYe from Tommy!  
Smiles all around all around the park’

He disposes it in the chest.

He has fun with Ranboo, and Fundy joins in. He stares at the portal again, and finds himself walking over lava multiple times, wondering if it was truly worth it.

He takes them to Logstedshire, and shows them his disk.

“This song makes me feel a certain way.”

They don’t ask what way that is, and he never answers for himself.

He kicks them out, and goes back down the cold, dark mine which was more welcoming than L’Manberg ever was to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pogchamp


	4. I think maybe he’s just insecure.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> me when i

_Tommyinnit was slain by WilburSoot._

He respawns. Thank god he still had a few lives left before the respawn system completely crashes on him. He lingers on the respawn page for a few seconds, however, wondering if he should just quit the server. He decides to respawn.

He regrets that. The sunlight burns through down to his retinas, and it’s almost blinding. He squints aggressively, before loudly exclaiming almost enthusiastically “You shot me!” As they - him and Wilbur, head down to the beach.

Tommy starts to hear the whispers of the pumpkins beckoning to him, and he half wants to turn it around to try to silence it. 

It doesn’t work.

He finds himself chatting to the narrator voice again, sending messages like “ it will be okay.” In his communicator while everyone is offline. There’s this deafening silence that cuts through the diamond that his worn pick is constructed from, the pick itself having angrily scratched at the boy’s course fingers. He leans forward before wandering over to the music disk, listening to far. 

He keeps seeing Tubbo, but apparently nobody else does.

Ghostbur keeps telling him that he is perfectly fine and he sees Tubbo too. Tommy knows he’s lying, but appreciates the gesture.

Tommy was very sleep deprived, the near isolation constantly picked at his skin and everytime he’d shut his eyes he’d be reminded of all the bad moments in his life.

“It was never meant to be.” Blown up.  
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten paces fire.” Shot before the final word was even finished.

“He said something, Phil, it was never meant to be.” He didn’t die, this time around, surprisingly. 

“I’m sorry, Tommy.” Exiled.

Philza, his father, finally visited. That was a positive. He kept seeing Tubbo, and Wilbur just kept going “Tubbo is right there!” But, when Tommy looked, 

There was nobody there.

And nobody ever came.

They stayed a while, the boy having built a makeshift girlfriend to keep him company. It was made out of some logs and a single carved pumpkin, but maybe he could pretend that was Clara, that was the narrator.

He finds himself listening to chirp.

He secures the tent and starts to flatten the land. An uneven ruling leaves room for dispute between the masses. 

He believes that applies to the land, too.

He learnt that Wilbur burnt his book, he tried to calm down, he really did. But a familiar voice, one belonging to perhaps the most scariest person Tommy has ever seen had beckoned him.

**”He’s going to betray you.”**

He desperately tries to ignore it, and for now, he succeeds. He had no idea how he hadn’t passed out at this point, with exhaustion pulling at his heart and eyelids. Maybe it was the sparkling determination that was dying out like a lighter running low on fuel. Or maybe it was just the hope that it’d eventually kill him. 

He replays Chirp, thinking about Clara again. The narrator, his ‘girlfriend’.

He doesn’t know if it’s making him more insane or sedating the insanity prickling at his nerves.

He does not sleep that night, plagued by the memories of his torment every time he closes his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pogchamp!! i won’t be writing anything on my birthday (dec 16)


	5. But nobody came.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody ever came. Nobody ever cared.
> 
> He was tired.

He was mining. Mining away. Perhaps it’d take his mind off the chaos going on.

Wilbur swore that he’d give out the invites.

But nobody came.

Nobody _fucking_ came.

Dream said so himself. Nobody actually wanted him there. It was all going great without him, he was just a waste of space while he was in l’Manberg, and was probably happy he was gone.

No, definitely. 

He finds himself throwing the chicken he had cooked into the lava in the hot, sweltering nether. He doesn’t mind starving for a little while.

Just like Tubbo had burnt his own compass. The sign of their nonexistent friendship. The only thing holding Tommy up. He almost burns it.

Almost.

“Even Ranboo, even Tubbo-“

“Mhm.”

Damnit all to hell, Tommy knew they didn’t care, but going this low? This had to be a record for the child, who had been betrayed more times than he could count.

Dream let him use his trident, and it felt like he had finally bathed a little. His hair was still practically caked with the sticky mud that came from hours of working in the stuff, falling over. He keeps mentioning that he has a pep in his step so maybe he could convince himself he did,

“You know, we’re a good team, me and you.” He had turned to Dream. Dream stayed with him and visited him everyday. Dream gave him his ender chest back. Dream was nice to him when nobody else was.

“I’m very angry. I’m not allowed to go back to l’Man.. l-“ he cuts himself off, rubbing his tired eyes.

His ‘girlfriend’ was now cheating on him with a red block. She went that low.

So he killed her. 

Dream rebuilds her and carves ‘HOTTER girl’ into the wood. He finds himself laughing, pausing to take in a few gasps as he smiled. He realises that his first genuine smile in exile had been induced by Dream, the one who had taken both of his lives.

He didn’t really care.

A voice in the back of his head resonated _‘Dream is manipulating you.’_

He ignores it, because it sounds so much like alivebur. Alivebur with his ‘Tubbo? He’ll turn on us the SECOND he realises we’re not in the lead.’ Alivebur with his ‘Are we the bad guys?’ And admittedly, he hated it. Why couldn’t he just go through his desirably humble life and live out the rest of his days with no more wars or betrayal.

It’s raining. 

Dream ends up shovelling food down his throat and he still refused to eat by himself.

He cracks a joke.

Dream let’s out a small chuckle. That was progress, right?

**He’s lying to you, he’s gonna turn on you. He’s manipulating you, he’s just going to betray you, and you can’t do anything about it.**

One thing was true. 

TommyInnit never learns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn this stream is making me cry ow


	6. “Listen to your Heart” “No”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I srsly deleted the first draft of this by mistake fund,skfkdkfmf

Tommy was so tired. Dream kept blowing up his stuff. Dream kept doing this, doing that.

He wakes up and water fills his lungs. This had become routine at this point, he’d always wake up drowning. He huffs loudly, and gets to work.

Dream blows up his stuff.  
It’s always Dream.

It’s always Dream.

Dream finds his safe haven, his one source of sanity. He destroys it to ashes, Tommy only being able to salvage a few pieces of burnt paper. One of his friend. One of L’Manberg. Both reminders of his major mistake.

He sheds a light tear, wiping at it immediately. He knows he looks like shit. Dirt caked his now long but knotted hair, and his clothes were torn beyond repair. He’d need to make more clothes.

What would Phil think?

His heart beckons. _Well, for one, he’d probably say that you did your best in the end. And he’d probably kill Dream._

He disagrees, imagining nothing but disappointment in the man’s eyes. Maybe it makes the voices circling in his head quiet, just for awhile.

On explanation of the voices, everyone has them. When you’re sane, you can’t really hear them. But as soon as you get pulled through hell and back and lose all sense of hope along the way, they become so, so loud.

They call mockingly ‘Jump!’ ‘Dream doesn’t care!’ ‘StupidInnit lol’ ‘raccooninnit’.

He was tired of it. Tired of them. Tired of Dream. Tired of being mocked. 

Threatening booms were distantly heard in the background of his distant plane of imagination, having slipped into daydreaming. He barely registers Dream telling him to rebuild and listen to him.

He narrows his eyes as Dream leaves.

No, he would die right here.

He builds up, using all of his resources. He sits there, watching the sun set. 

“Dream doesn’t...” he takes the voices into recognition. “He said it himself, he was there to WATCH me, to MOCK me, I-“ he chokes up, the moon peering at his back curiously, the crescent shaping cradling the boy and basking him in its comforting, soft blue light. “No. You know what? No. I-“

His heart tells him to end it here.

He disagrees.   
He jumps, but not onto the ground. The water. He lands safely, however he’d probably receive a few rashes from a fall like that. He swims up, grabs his stuff and gets all he can. He cuts down the tree, and finds a chest. He opens the chest, and finds a disk.

Mellohi.

He slams the chest closed. This was just some sick joke. And he hated it. They all PITIED him, felt bad for him. The only person who didn’t was-

Was Techno.

He heads out into the cold of the night and battles bothersome, freezing weather. The snow pelted against his chest and buried in his hair, but it felt nice to have cold water running through his dirty hair. His footsteps crunch in the cold snow. He doesn’t notice when he stops shivering, but doesn’t care. He knows shivering was a way to keep you warm, but he just didn’t. CARE. 

He couldn’t find it, the one place where he’d find warmth. 

And then, he did.

He located it. He runs over and inside, immediately sitting by the fireplace as he began to shiver again, basking in the warmth. Techno would probably be back to his house soon.

It just dawned on Tommy that this is Techno’s house.

He doesn’t care, and sits there for a good hour.

He heads down into a burrow he had created for himself, covering up the hole and sitting there.

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep, but he knows that when his head hit that cheap pillow, crafted in under 20 minutes, he could tell it had a heart.

And maybe, maybe he just wanted to tear this fascist milky-way apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unpogchamp.


	7. Hate Yourself, TV Girl.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> help im disintegrating

And Tommy had been through so, so much. For starters, remember TECHNOBLADE? Yeah, some ally he was. Now he’s against Tommy. 

Oh right, he should explain. 

Tommy had been living with TECHNOBLADE. He had been called his ‘Theseus’ and was destined for greatness.

He should’ve known Techno was using him for personal gain. All Techno ever wanted was to use Tommy. Techno was selfish. He was cruel and heartless. He didn’t care. In taking down a tyrant, he himself became a Tyrant.

Remember his Father, Philza Minecraft? Yeah. He turned on him. He didn’t care. Tommy went through so much, and Phil just DIDNT CARE. It was pathetic. Tommy was pathetic.

Atleast he was away from dream and out of exile.

Tubbo had welcomed him back with open arms, and now they live together. In the same house! Who would’ve thought? Tommy wants to speak so, so hard about his hardships in exile, all the pain and regret and betrayal and trauma he experienced while out of the SMP. But he could never bring himself to do so, because he viewed himself as a coward. He was nothing but a coward, no matter how much people disagreed, that was the only correct viewpoint.

No more getting stuff blown up.

No more pity items.

But then there was stuff getting blown up. Stuff was L’Manberg. Stuff was the home he gave not one, but two lives to protect.

He wasn’t going to lose another one. His back ached, but he refused to die. He got shot so many times with fireworks, Tubbo even taking a shot for him from the relentless assault he got dealt by his BROTHE-

No. Techno was never his brother. Phil was never his father. Dream was never his friend.

Wilbur was the only father he had ever wanted. He was there for him, even in his insanity when he would kill Tommy, just short of taking one of his lives away from him. He would always apologise and babble and sing to Tommy, and Tommy forgave him. Tommy saw he was troubled, and he couldn’t be angry. He had lost himself to a drunken storm of emotion, now trapped in the swirling sky. Tommy understood that. He forgave that. Ghostbur left him in exile, but he forgave him. Because he loves him like a son were to love his father. Phil was never there for him. He left home multiple times to train his prized possession, his prodigy. They would be gone for days on end while Wilbur and Tommy, Wilbur only 16 and Tommy was 9, starved. They waited for hours on end for their father to come back with food, not having been taught how to hunt. After they didn’t return for a good week, both boys decided it would be good to learn how to fight and hunt. So next time they left, they didn’t go hungry. They didn’t die to Zombies, because they could protect themselves. Wilbur with his brute force and Tommy with his agility. They both had their own fighting style, and accompanied each other in battle well. They reckoned that they would be able to 2 on 1 Techno with it, but never tried. 

Speaking of Wilbur, he wants to be alive. He wants to live again. He wants to breathe real air again, feel the grass beneath his feet. 

Tommy wants him back, too. Because he adores him. He always has. And no matter how bad it got, Tommy would always wait for Wilbur to recover, there with him even when he did himself dirty. Did them both dirty.

L’Manberg was gone, but they can repair. Half of it is there, and they can work on that half. The prime path was in shambles, but it was there. They could regrow. They could improve. There wasn’t sides, there were people. A group of people. Groups of people. They all fought against each other, clashed. No matter if you chose a person, or a side, you’re choosing. 

Perhaps people should just be given free will instead of bending to whoever rules the land they walk in.

And, if Tommy were to ever become the president, 

That would be his first rule. Absolute free will, if it does not break laws implemented to keep balance and peace. There would be no singular decisions. No exile. They would go down fighting, and wouldn’t back down. People weren’t being forced to fight. That is the type of government Tommy himself would lead.

He hopes that one day, against all odds, against Wilbur’s predictions, he becomes the president.

He proves everyone wrong.


End file.
